Page 93 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
Outside, the courtyard was bustling with activity, a chaotic symphony of soldiers and servants. Alethea scanned the crowd for any sign of Balthasar or Nakir. She couldn’t afford to be seen by either of them—not now. Not in her current state of turmoil. Every fiber of her being urged her to flee, to escape the confines of the keep and the overwhelming emotions threatening to engulf her.
She hardly knew where she was going, driven by the same panic that had sent her fleeing from a different castle not too long ago. The city’s winding streets stretched before her, a maze of unfamiliar alleys and crowded markets. She pulled her hood low, concealing her features, as she pressed forward. Her steps were hurried, guided by an unspoken impulse.
As the city’s taverns called to her, promising temporary respite from her fears, she considered losing herself in the dark corner of one. Among the myriad establishments, she found herself standing before a dilapidated inn, a stark contrast to the lively taverns nearby. A weary woman stood outside, her eyes pleading with a group of disinterested young men. Time had etched lines on her face, testament to the harshness of life. With trembling hands, the woman clung to the arms of passersby, desperation tainting her voice.
“Please! Please help me find him. This ain’t like him—please,” she implored the guards. They only exchanged disbelieving glances, a silent chorus of skepticism that infuriated Alethea.
She approached slowly, tugging at her own sleeves and pretending like she wasn’t terrified of getting involved. “What’s wrong?”
The woman’s hand went to her chest as she turned to face her. So far, no one had recognized her for who she was, allowing her anonymity as she’d wandered the streets.
“Oh, bless you, miss. It’s my son, Omar. He’s missing. He was playing with his friends by the fountain and was supposed to come hours ago, but I ain’t seen him. He’s a good boy. I just can’t find him anywhere.”
Alethea knit her brows in concern, her worry deepening. “I’m... sure he’ll come home.”
The mother’s face tightened with desperation. “You don’t understand. He’s got the sugar sickness. It causes him to faint when he doesn’t eat right. He left his medicine at home. I’ve searched everywhere.”
With a quiet nod, she resolved to use her gift. “Show me,” she said, her voice steady.
The woman led her toward the sprawling courtyard, her steps quickened with hope. A large fountain, adorned with a statue dedicated to the Dawn Mother, Anya, stood proudly in the center of the square. People bustled about, unaware of the mother’s anguish. Alethea bit her lip, scanning the horizon, and hesitated briefly before turning to the mother, her resolve firm.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Lara, miss.”
“Lara,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing, trying to instill confidence in the worried mother. “I’m Alethea. And I’m going to help you find your son.”
She took Lara’s hands in her own. Closing her eyes, she let herself be consumed by the raw emotions emanating from Lara, immersing herself in the depths of the mother’s pain and concern to open up the connection that hung between them like a braid of golden threads. These threads wove together in her mind, painting a vivid picture of Omar.
Behind her closed lids, Alethea’s eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. She saw him, his youthful face framed by tousled hair, eyes closed and skin paler than it ought to be. She quickly relayed what information she could glean.
“Your son is not far, but he is not well. He’s in the alley next to the baker’s, behind the bags of refuse. Go to him—quickly!”
The brilliant glow behind her closed eyes dimmed, the vivid visions of Omar’s surroundings fading away. As the connection with Lara’s emotions subsided, Alethea’s consciousness returned to the bustling courtyard. The strain of reaching into her well of magic, unraveling the threads of destiny, had taken a toll. Her knees felt weak, and she steadied herself by clutching the edge of the fountain behind her. The stone ledge provided a welcome support, and she sank down onto it, her head aching.
Lara’s face twisted in worry. She withdrew a small glass vial from her pocket before rushing across the courtyard in the direction Alethea had sent her.
Left alone, Alethea inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. Her eyes darted around the courtyard, finding several pairs of eyes fixed on her. Strangers, ordinary folk going about their daily lives, had halted their activities to witness the unusual scene between her and the distressed mother.
Amidst the curious onlookers, a sudden commotion erupted from across the courtyard. Alethea strained her eyes, attempting to peer over the heads of the other figures to discern the source.
“My son! She found him!” Lara’s voice echoed with relief and disbelief as she stepped out of the alleyway, followed by a city guard who looked equally astonished. The boy, weak and nearly unconscious, was held securely in the guard’s arms. Lara rushed back to her, hands trembling as she took both of Alethea’s in her own, pressing grateful kisses upon them. “You found him. He could have died! The gods are good. Thank you, miss.Thank you.May Anya’s golden light shine upon you!”
Tears welled in Lara’s eyes, reflecting the sheer magnitude of her relief. The city guard, too, wore an expression of awe, as if he’d witnessed a miracle.
“Is it true?” A young man, perhaps a decade older than her, stepped forward. His hair was the color of pale sunlight, hischeeks flushed with an anxious urgency. “Can you find missing people?”
Alethea’s lips parted as he moved closer.
“My brother,” he continued, his voice edged with desperation. “He left for Rai’Sharr to join the Imperial Army. We haven’t heard from him in months.”
A hush fell over the crowd that had gathered as several souls waited for her answer. A pang of empathy tugged at Alethea’s heart.
“I... can try,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her newfound purpose. “Tell me about him. What’s his name? Is there something distinctive about him? Anything that might help me recognize him?”
With eyes a mix of hope and fear, he began to share details about his brother. His words painted a vivid picture of a young man with a determined spirit—someone who’d embarked on a journey with dreams and aspirations. Alethea listened intently, absorbing every piece of information. Deep within, the flicker of her powers stirred, a reminder of the responsibility that had found its way to her once again.
“Please,” he begged. “Tell me.”
